Habits (or 5 Inappropriate Times Clara Thinks about the Doctor)
by droidgirl
Summary: "The whole walk was pleasant and sweet, and lasted until the moment Clara saw a flash of what looked like a familiar blue in an alleyway. That was when she suddenly felt something very much like hunger stir in the pit of her belly. She waited to hear the familiar whoosh of the TARDIS engine, and stood there for a second too long."


**Habits**

**1\. Fragile Bird**

The forest was deep, dark and definitely dangerous, judging from the noises of destruction following in their wake, as the pair did their utmost to sprint through the foliage. Something large and angry was following swiftly on their heels, emitting a loud, blood-curdling roar every few seconds.

The Doctor held her hand in his firm and unyielding grip, guiding her unerringly towards safety, towards the TARDIS. How he seemed so sure about where they had left his ship in this shadowy world where everything looked the same, she didn't know. But what choice did she have except to follow his lead?

Stumbling over a tree root once again, she gasped in fright even as the Doctor pulled her ungracefully upwards, preventing what would most certainly have been a fatal delay. The thundering of massive feet against the forest floor grew closer by the second.

Onwards they ran. Low branches lacerated every single patch of her bare skin, while filmy tattered webs clung to her limbs and clothing.

"How far away are we?" she asked plaintively, doing her best not to turn, to catch a glimpse of the creature which wanted their soft bodies in its sharp jaws.

"Not too far…I think," he responded, looking over his shoulder. His eyes grew wide, reflecting something resembling alarm, confirming her suspicions that she should not peer behind her.

It seemed like an eon before the two of them finally burst through the entrance of the TARDIS, slamming the wooden doors shut behind them. Outside, the creature howled in fury, deprived of its prey.

Leaning against the doors, arms pushed together, they stood, breathing heavily, dripping with sweat and adrenalin.

Clara looked up at the Doctor, looked into his darkened eyes and felt the cadence of her heartbeat impossibly increasing. His own breathing seemed to hitch in his chest as he stared back at her. Their hands were still joined, and suddenly it seemed extremely important to her that they were touching.

Turning her body, she started to say something, but he interrupted her train of thought.

"I believe it's time I got you home in time for your date?"

She needed a few moments to consider his words. By the time she had processed them, he had already released her hand and was moving to flip a lever on the console.

**2\. West Coast**

Autumn hikes through the English countryside were always a beautiful experience, Clara thought as she walked hand-in-hand with Danny on the wide dirt path beside a random farmer's field.

They were spending a few days away from London, "out in the country where we can actually hear ourselves think," as Danny had joked when he had first suggested the idea three weekends ago.

"Is it wrong that I think lambs are the cutest things," she was staring at a sheep filled pasture. "But also the most delicious things in the world at the same time?"

"How can they be the most delicious things in the world when clearly pork chops are superior?" Danny mused.

They wandered up a gentle slope, continuing their profound discourse until they reached the very top of the hill, where they found themselves looking over the entire countryside spread out at their feet.

"Beautiful isn't it?" Danny asked with a smile, shading his eyes against the sun with one hand.

"Mmm," Clara smiled absently as she looked around them.

Other hikers approached from behind.

"Good day to the both of you," the male half of the new duo greeted politely in a thick Scottish brogue.

Danny watched as Clara's attention got caught by the greeting. If he saw a look of disappointment crease her features when she laid eyes upon the speaker, he said nothing.

**3\. Drain the Blood**

There were many places to hide in the empty warehouse they were creeping in, but it seemed that no amount of ducking and staying still was proving affective. The guards were everywhere, and for once, they seemed a lot more competent than the regular variety of minions the Doctor and Clara usually encountered.

She wondered if she had ever been more frightened in her life as they crept within the shadows, trying to avoid the very real bullets used by the men they were hiding from.

"Here," the Doctor murmured under his breath, grabbing her arm and pulling her into a dark alcove with him.

They had no choice but to be pressed tightly together in the tiny space he had found. Clara could feel every angular plane of the Timelord's body pushed up against her own; she realized belatedly as she looked up at him, that he too, was clearly aware of their proximity.

Guards slinked past their hiding spot, their soft soled boots making almost no noise on the hard concrete floor. Clara was uncertain how the two of them hadn't been found yet, given how loudly her heart was beating in her ears just then.

Quite without her being aware, she found herself straining upwards, drawn deeper into the Doctor's shadowed eyes. He on the other hand, remained motionless, as if unsure how to react. A sudden bright light shone directly on the two of them, causing them to shrink back.

* * *

She was unconscious by the time they attempted to carry her away from the Doctor, and therefore, missed the moment when he, enraged, stole a weapon from a nearby soldier and severely injured several of them in quick succession. She missed the moment when he snatched her back into his arms, somehow managing to bring her back onboard his ship.

She did however, come around to see him sitting off to her side, his face made haggard by worry and fear.

"What did I miss?" she croaked out.

"Nothing," he forced a smirk which grew sincere as he became assured that she was indeed, healthy. "I was waiting for you to wake up."

Together, they returned, and together, they destroyed the arms facility that had been poised to destroy another solar system a few hundred light years away from Earth.

**4\. Lover's Day**

Danny was so handsome in his uniform, she thought as she stared at her boyfriend appreciatively throughout the night.

The function they were at was a lovely affair, posh even, despite the fact that it's held in Danny's old barracks. The place had been decorated to the nines, and it was filled with all kinds of military personnel, all of them there with their spouses and partners. Wait staff wandered about, offering up trays of delicate canapés and fine champagne.

Considering that Danny and his soldier mates each had working guns in their holsters, in one of the most guarded facilities in the whole country, Clara reflected that she was possibly attending the safest party in all of England right at that moment.

"Love your dress," one of the girls said to Clara admiringly. "Where did you get it?"

Clara almost wanted to say, _"In a star cluster about fifteen parsecs out. Great night market – you wouldn't believe the coup I had to help organize to get this outfit."_

Instead, she lied and stated, "Topshop. Five seasons ago."

"It's lovely," the girl sighed.

Unbidden, she suddenly recalled the way the Doctor's gaze had alighted on her as she stood triumphantly over the body of the fallen dictator on the planet where the dress had been procured. She remembered with startling clarity how he had gazed at her with admiration, mixed with something else far more intense. Clara shivered at the memory.

"Are you cold?" Danny asked.

"Nah," she smiled. "But I thought maybe we could take a walk outside. You could show me your old stomping grounds."

Perhaps the cold winter air would do her some good.

* * *

They spent the next thirty minutes wandering through the rest of the darkened camp as Danny told her stories from his days as a cadet. The stories were funny and entertaining, although she detected a hint of sadness belying his words, especially when he told stories featuring friends he almost casually referred to in the past tense.

Almost with some irritation, Clara was unduly reminded of times when the Doctor would sink into his moments of quiet and melancholy, mourning people she had never met and never will.

Around a darkened corner, away from the prying eyes of others, Clara pulled Danny into a gentle kiss, one meant to offer comfort and solace.

"What was that for?" he laughed as he looked down at her.

"Nothing," she smiled. "Just felt like kissing you."

The lie stuck only a little in her throat.

**5\. Girls Like You**

It was two weeks to Christmas, and they were walking around the city admiring the decorations, sipping on hot chocolate and giggling like children outside shop windows.

The whole walk was pleasant and sweet, and lasted until the moment Clara saw a flash of what looked like a familiar blue in an alleyway. That was when she suddenly felt something very much like hunger stir in the pit of her belly. She waited to hear the familiar whoosh of the TARDIS engine, and stood there for a second too long.

"Clara?" Danny's voice brought her out of her reverie.

"Hm?" she turned to him.

"Did you see someone you know?" Danny asked, his voice strangely strained.

"No, just…it was nothing," she shook her head, and made to keep on walking, only to be stilled by a hand to her elbow.

"Listen…I…" Danny looked at the ground. "Christ, this is a horrible time to do this isn't it?"

"Do what?" she asked, confused.

"I can't do this anymore." he said at last. "I can't…be with someone who barely even sees me."

"What?" Clara's frown deepened. "Danny I lo…"

"No, please don't say it." the former soldier held his hands up as if in surrender. Passerbys were looking over curiously. "I think…I think there are things both of us need to sort out."

"Danny, what's going on? If I didn't know better, it sounds like you're breaking up with me," Clara hesitated. "I do…know better right?"

"I don't think this is working," he kept his voice low. "But I know I'm tired of playing second fiddle to some…alien man in a blue box. I deserve more than to be just…the safety blanket you turn to every time things cock up with him."

"But I told you, I'm done with him. Been done for months," she found the lie coming to her easily.

"God, listen to you - you must think I'm _that_ stupid." Danny shook his head. "I didn't mean to do this now or here…I've been trying to hold on to you so long. Right now though…right now, I don't think I can be around you anymore, for my sake at least. I'm sorry Clara…I think."

He turned and walked away, gradually becoming wholly swallowed by the surging crowd of Christmas shoppers.

* * *

The walk home was a strange journey, with a vaguely dream-like quality to it. The paper cup filled with hot chocolate in her gloved hands cooled rapidly in the wintry air, but still she did not throw it away. Instead, she held on to it like a strange talisman until she reached her doorstep shortly after nightfall.

It had started to snow gently, and the street in front of her house looked a little like a Christmas card, she thought as she stared at it with dry eyes.

Fumbling in her pockets for keys eventually, she opened her door and stepped in, only to find a familiar blue box taking up half the space in her living room. The Doctor was on her couch, flipping through the television channels.

"What's this 'real housewife' show? It sounds almost interesting - is it a competition where they have to weed out the robotic women from the humans?" he tilted his head to the side. "If you ask me, that's a very sexist premise. If I'm right though, the whole competition is rigged - they're mostly artificial women."

Clara blinked. "What?"

"That's what I'm asking." The Doctor shrugged, switching off the television. "You ok? You seem paler than usual. Kind of…fish belly-ish."

"Why do you do that?" she asked irritably, finally setting the disposable cup down on the stand beside her doorway before she shrugged out of her coat.

"Do what?" he sounded puzzled. She was quite sure he knew exactly what she meant.

"Doctor…" she walked over and sat down next to him. "Tell me."

"Tell you what?" he stared at her.

She closed her eyes and breathed.

"Tell you what Clara?" he probed, sounding uncharacteristically gentle.

"Am I a good person?" she asked at last.

Opening her eyes, she was treated to the sight of him opening and closing his mouth like a befuddled fish. Sighing resignedly, she tried to ignore the slight twinge of satisfaction for having exacted a revenge of sorts, for the time he had placed her in the exact same awkward position.

"Never mind." she stood up. "Where are we going today?"

"Glad you asked. There's a nebula I've been meaning to take you to - you wouldn't believe the kind of crop the locals have been cultivating…" the Doctor babbled as he stood up and walked around the coffee table, disappearing into the TARDIS.

Clara followed, not looking back.

**6\. Fineshrine**

They found themselves standing on the roof of St. Paul's cathedral in the year 1903, where they're being menaced by strange shadowy creatures, battering against the invisible shield the Doctor has somehow raised up around them.

Perhaps it was their utter lack of faces which made their appearance so disquieting; or perhaps it was the almost human-sounding moans and shrieks emanating from them.

Fingers interlocked, the Doctor and Clara stared at the creatures forlornly.

"Vastra and the gang should be along soon," he murmured.

"And if not?" Clara wondered.

"Can't afford to think that way can we?" he asked, looking down at her with a sardonic smile. It went unspoken that they did not actually know if Vastra, Jenny and Strax were even alive still. The last time the three of them had been seen, they had been overwhelmed by these creatures, with Vastra cursing vehemently in her native serpentine tongue.

Clara considered her options as she listened to the pounding of leathery wings against their cracking shield. She looked up at the Doctor, and watched as his smile faded. Carefully, he brought one tentative, almost shaking hand up to caress her cheek.

"Hey," she smiled, pressing his palm against the side of her face.

Bending down, he touched his dry lips to her own. For Clara, it felt like the universe suddenly exploded around them; the screeches of the things outside faded away into so much white noise.

When Vastra and Jenny finally found them, there was a peculiar look on Vastra's face that might have conceivably been concern - although Clara was distinctly certain, it wasn't concern for her.

* * *

She wasn't two steps into the TARDIS when she felt him fall into step right behind her. Long fingers pulled her to him, close enough that she could hear his ragged breathing in her ear, near enough that she could smell that clean scent which clung to his very being.

"Clara…" he whispered, breathing her in. "If you don't tell me to stop, I don't know if I will be able to…"

Her own nerves tingling, she tilted her head slightly to meet him in a warm kiss.

There would never be a time when she would be ready to stop, she thought distantly as his hands fumbled under her skirt, pulling her underwear aside. There would never be a moment when she would be able to look at him and think that she would be ready to give him up.

Perhaps that is why she had selfishly - not selflessly - ensured that she would be part of his life, from the very start to the very end. She wanted every part of this man, and she wanted him to need her as much as she needed him.

Her fingers undid his clothing, sliding his cock free. Leaning her against the railing beside the TARDIS entrance, he slammed into her. Hands tangled in her hair, he guided her head back, allowing him access to the place where her neck and her shoulder met. With sharp teeth, he bit down, hard enough that she knew it would mark her.

His hips moved urgently against hers, drawing out a cry from deep within her chest.

"Mine," he gasped against her skin. Digging her fingers into his upper arms, she let him take her over the edge, the edge which in truth, she had been falling from since the day she had met him.

"Yours," she whispered, as he came inside of her, tumbling along with her.

* * *

Later, lying sleepless in his bed as he slumbered fitfully, she gently traced patterns into his skin; she traced the initials of her name.

He didn't know what sort of man he was, but then again, she wasn't exactly certain what kind of woman she was either.

She wondered if they would ever find out the answers they sought, or if those answers were even that important.

Laying her head down on his chest, she listened to the sound of his twin hearts beating within his deceptively frail body


End file.
